


Oberon's Spell

by greygerbil



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Masked Ball As An Excuse for Inadvisable Sex, mentions of period-typical homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:20:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29028588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/pseuds/greygerbil
Summary: The mission could have been quick and easy, but then Jacob sees the elven king.
Relationships: Jacob Frye/Ned Wynert
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13
Collections: Bulletproof 20/21





	Oberon's Spell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thedevilchicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/gifts).



Jacob shut the bedroom door on the corpse after wiping his dagger on the dead man’s immaculate sheets under which he had hidden the body. Since no one would expect the crotchety patriarch of the Tellhall family to appear downstairs at the masked ball for any other reason than to complain about the noise it created, he doubted that his death would be noticed quickly. His adult sons, who had organised the festivity, would be happy to let sleeping dogs lie, and James Tellhall had spent his entire life apparently on a mission to ensure there would be no friends who might come looking for him. It seemed to Jacob a miserable existence, chasing after money to the exclusion of all else and then doing nothing with the riches but hording them like a dragon, but considering how many chose it, there had to be some draw he cared not to understand. Either way, no more children would be crushed between the gears of James Tellhall’s factories and if his sons knew what was good for them, they would take care not to follow in his footsteps.

He sheathed the dagger at his hip and, striding past a mirror, straightened the seat of his hood. His costume was simple: a mysterious traveller draped in a long, dark cloak, a featureless black mask, a small lantern and a blunt sword hanging off his rope belt. He’d put it together this afternoon out of odds and ends when Evie had reminded him he would need a costume tonight – the date of the ball might have slipped his mind –, but Jacob thought it worked just as well as something more elaborate. He cut a tall, imposing figure and several women had giggled among themselves as they’d glanced at him while he’d been ever so slowly drifting in the direction of the stairs seemingly at random. Yet, he also hadn’t drawn so much attention that it hindered the mission. _Even George couldn’t have complained about this performance._

No surprise he wasn’t where all eyes went, of course. The rich folk here had come to be seen in ridiculously expensive get-ups, they weren’t about to waste too much time on anyone but themselves. The majority of costumes did not transport clever ideas, but they did invariably show that the person who wore them was very well-off, with swathes of fine silks elaborately sown with gemstones and glittering thread. Most masks covered only so much of the face that you could still see the owner and admire them for their beautiful and costly display. Still, they made a pretty picture twirling across the floor, Jacob thought, as he rejoined them to lose himself in the sea of bodies.

As he watched the dancers, his eyes caught on a man who moved out of a quadrille formation just breaking up, bowing gracefully before a woman wearing a white wig made up like those worn a century ago and a matching old-fashioned dress with an expansive skirt. As an assassin, you had to know how to identify people quickly in a crowd, by the way they held themselves, an unusual gesture, a nervous tic, and Jacob thought he had seen something in the way the man had turned, quick and light, yet with a straight back, that seemed familiar.

Jacob approached him while still hidden in the throng of people. The costume the man wore was perhaps not one of the most expensive, but certainly one of the best. Green and pale white fabrics formed a tunic and tight trousers. The top was slashed at the sleeves and over the thighs, careless but not haphazardly. A loop of leather tied the tunic about the hip, strung through a series of grey steel plates with Celtic knots on them. Glass pearls were stitched into the costume, making it shine and shimmer wherever the man turned in the candlelight, just like the silver coronet on top of his wild, dark hair, formed like thin antlers or twigs, and woven with real flowers. The mask that covered his whole face had slanted eyes and a smiling mouth that gave it a vulpine look. He now held the attention of several people with some tale and once Jacob had moved close enough to hear his smooth American accent, he was certain who he was looking at.

Loitering in the back, Jacob waited for the man to be finished with his acquaintances and turn to find a new crowd before he slipped closer on silent feet, hovering just half a step behind him.

“What are you, then? The king of the elves?”

The man stopped abruptly, dark eyes glancing up at Jacob through the mask, growing wider only for a moment.

“You might be right,” Ned said as he faced him. “If it were so, shouldn’t a lone wanderer like you be careful to approach me?”

Jacob chuckled. He had a feeling he had been discovered as well, but there was no reason to be obvious with so many people around.

“Why? Are you going to kidnap me to your realm?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Only if you bother me,” Ned answered. “Or if you are a bad man, perhaps.”

His gaze flicked around the room. Perhaps he was trying to figure out what Jacob had come to do.

“I’ve already caused what trouble I could. It would be a shame to ruin the evening, anyway. Say, though, don’t elves like bad men? Thought you were tricksters yourselves.”

Jacob wasn’t sure what gave him the confidence to be so free with Ned. His interest in men was still so fledgling he’d not yet dared to make a real stride after Roth’s dying kiss, though his fantasies had certainly been running rampant. Besides, he didn’t know if Ned liked men; he didn’t even really know if Ned liked _him_. Yet, the mask and cloak were a great excuse to be daring.

Apparently assured that Jacob was not about to turn the ball into a brawl or bloodbath, Ned relaxed, shoulders sinking as he moved into a more comfortable stance, and eyes briefly narrowing in a way that made Jacob suspect the fake smile of his mask hid a real one.

“I didn’t say I would spirit you away to hurt you, did I?”

The answer took Jacob by surprise. He’d sometimes, more not quite so directly, tried to tease and prod Ned for some reaction he barely dared to imagine himself, but Ned had never given him more than a roll of his eyes or twitch of his lips, certainly not an answer spoken with such badly-feigned innocence lacing the words, making them a snare. 

He should have had a come-back, but faced with this sudden success, Jacob was tongue-tied. Ned made a small, amused sound and turned to look over his shoulder at the sound of a group laughing by the edge of the dance floor, apparently ready to let Jacob flee.

Maybe Jacob should have taken the opportunity. He did still have a bloody knife under his cloak and a servant could walk upstairs at any moment. Even without that, it was probably not the wisest idea to pursue Ned, a business man who had never given any indication he had serious personal interest in a gang leader who spent half his night on rooftops – except for that one comment just now that still rang in Jacob’s ears.

Jacob could almost hear Evie’s voice in his ear, telling him to cut it out. But it would have been stupid to let a chance like this go...

He followed Ned’s gaze instead and that got him an idea. Though no man had been courageous enough to scandalise society by appearing in a dress, there were a few scarce women in elaborate uniforms and immaculate suits. That meant that it would not seem strange for two men to dance together tonight.

“Care for a dance?” he asked Ned.

“With you?”

For once, it seemed he had managed to surprise Ned.

“Sure. I’ll even dance the woman for you. You haven’t had a more dainty, graceful match than me – and I could be hiding anything under this cloak, after all.”

Though the mask covered it, he could feel Ned raising his brows. The cloak definitely did not hide Jacob’s broad shoulders or deep voice, so if anyone cared to ask, it would not make for the best excuse. Still, there was some plausible deniability for all sorts of things tonight, an air of gaiety that allowed transgressions.

“Alright,” Ned said, offering him his gloved hand, and Jacob’s stomach flipped. “Though I hope you are aware that this is a waltz, not a jig at the pub.”

Jacob reached to grab his fingers, then remembered what he’d told Ned just now and instead placed his own hand gently over Ned’s palm so Ned could lead their way.

“Watch me.”

He may not have been enthused to learn the steps back in the day, but it was one of the few realms where he grudgingly admitted his mentor had been right: they had indeed served him well over the years.

Ned positioned the two of them in a corner of the room, where there wouldn’t be too many onlookers. As he’d promised, Jacob put his hand on Ned’s shoulder and stretched the other arm out. Ned’s free hand settled on Jacob’s shoulder blade.

The first steps were a bit awkward, as Jacob was wearing heavy, old leather boots to complete his outfit and had never danced the woman’s role before. However, despite the fact that Ned probably weighed half of what Jacob did and was a head shorter, his lead was persuasive and steady, and soon enough they were turning to the rhythm among the other couples.

“Not bad for a stranger in rags. I thought my toes would be broken by now,” Ned said, his fingers pressing tightly into Jacob’s back.

“You’re a little cheeky for someone I can pick up and throw over my shoulder.”

“Are you trying to tempt a fae curse?”

Swiftly, Ned moved away and then tugged Jacob towards him again, stepping a little too close as he did so, right into Jacob’s space. Jacob felt a jolt go down to his prick.

“No, that sounds bad. I should find a way to apologise...”

The hint in his voice wasn’t well-hidden, but Ned did not shy away from it.

“It hasn’t even been a full song yet,” he just answered, bemused.

“I guess you’re very good at dancing.”

“Then let’s enjoy it a little longer.”

Ned’s tone held gentle mockery and Jacob would have protested, but he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t liking this a lot, too. Maybe he should try to get Ned to a pub where they could try that jig sometime, even if Ned in his suit and glasses didn’t seem like the type for the sort of dance that became most fun after three ales. You never knew, though – he hadn’t figured him as a guest at a masked ball, either. The real problem was that he didn’t know if Ned would let Jacob touch him if he’d have to call him by his real name and look him in the face.

Jacob pushed that bitter thought away and concentrated on the much sweeter present. Ned had a light-footedness about him that made him hard to grasp even as he was technically already in Jacob’s arms. Several times, he frustrated Jacob’s attempts to pull him closer, but would then push up almost to Jacob’s chest himself, stepping between Jacob’s feet with cat-like speed, and again put Jacob in his place with a firm hold of their position when Jacob tried to do the same to him. It was a little infuriating and hot as hellfire. By the time Ned tapped him on the arm, the melody had changed, probably a few times already, and Jacob was half-hard in his breeches.

“That hallway goes to the kid’s quarters, wanderer, but the kids are all grown now. There shouldn’t be anyone streaking about now,” Ned said quietly, nodding at a door.

“It seems like you looked around.”

“It never hurts to be informed about your surroundings.”

Glancing over Ned’s head into the crowd, Jacob made sure that no one was paying attention to them before he took a quick step backwards and dragged Ned through the door. It opened without a key, probably left that way so the servants could move more easily through the rest of the house to perform their duties without constantly crossing the ballroom to get to the single servant entrance he had spotted in there.

“Follow me,” Ned said, after he’d closed the door behind them.

“Into the mist?” Jacob asked, grinning.

“Into the land behind the veil. I’m not some lowly will-o’-the-wisp.”

He tried a door handle at the end of a branching hallway, which did not budge. Getting to one knee, Ned pulled something out of a hidden pocket under the tunic. Jacob didn’t even have enough time to ask before the lock clicked and the door opened onto a room devoid of furniture and covered in a slight layer of dust, a few windows looking out over the treetops of the manor’s gardens.

Not for the first time, Jacob wondered if Ned had really always been the man behind the desk. He just seemed a bit too handy for it, not to mention not afraid enough of gunfire. He might have asked right now, but his hard prick won out against his curiosity.

As soon as the door was closed, he grabbed Ned and pushed him against the wall. Ned chuckled, but Jacob did not bother with teasing now, considering Ned was pulling apart his dark cloak to get at his belt. For a brief moment, Jacob wanted to tear Ned’s mask down to kiss him, but his twitching hand remained on his side instead. He had a bad feeling that looking at him as Ned, and Ned facing Jacob, would break this elven spell that Ned had allowed himself to be put under.

To escape the temptation, he turned Ned around after he had pulled Jacob’s prick out of his breeches. He rubbed it against Ned’s arse, enjoying the soft touch of the sleek fabric pulled over firm muscle underneath, before he tugged his trousers down and folded the long tunic up, fastening it under Ned’s belt. Ned reached back, his fingers digging into Jacob’s thigh as Jacob pushed his prick between his naked legs, rubbing up against the folds of his cunt.

He wasted no time to bring a hand around the front, knowing he would not last long himself, especially not when Ned was purposefully squeezing his thighs together like he was. To his delight, Ned was already wet, which also made it easier to thrust with the desperate speed he wanted. The quiet noises Ned made spurned Jacob on further as he rubbed his clit roughly with his finger. Jacob had to stifle a groan against Ned’s shoulder as Ned pressed back against him, hand sliding up yank his hips closer.

He lifted his free hand from Ned’s side to place it against the wall instead, gave himself some leverage to thrust with abandon. Apparently the dance hadn’t only affected him; he could feel Ned convulse under his fingers soon after, heard the hitch in his breathing, but he continued on with the same graceless, rough strength and Ned was still greedily pressing against his hand and into his body. Jacob didn’t stop even as the heat pooled in his stomach, lust washing over him, and he came over Ned’s legs and against the beige wall. His fingers dragged deep between Ned’s folds, teased him, made him come again, until Ned grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand back, breathing deeply.

“Not bad for a mere human,” Ned murmured, stroking his fingers over the head of Jacob’s prick before he spread his legs to let him go.

Jacob stepped back and chuckled. “I could-”

But before he could talk Ned into another round, he heard dull screams and general commotion from the ball room. With a grimace, he quickly tucked his prick back into his breeches.

“I wonder what that’s about?” Ned asked, straightening, as he quickly fixed his own outfit.

Jacob pulled the tunic out of Ned’s belt and straightened it.

“They probably found the body.”

Ned turned sharply on his heel.

“The body?”

“Old James Tellhall,” Jacob answered with a shrug.

“You _killed_ someone?” Ned hissed. “I thought you just stole something or tailed someone! Who hangs back for a dance after a murder?”

“I wouldn’t for a dance... I got more. And don’t pretend he didn’t have it coming.”

“That’s not the point! Now I have to go in there and track down the people who saw me tonight and find a way to escape while looking innocent before the police comes.” Ned exhaled. “I promise you, we’re not done talking about this, Frye.”

It was probably a good thing the mask hid Jacob’s broad, stupid grin as a weight lifted off his shoulders and his heart even as Ned glowered at him. He’d have figured Ned would try to bury this evening entirely, wouldn’t even acknowledge him now if he didn’t have to, but the switch between elven king and Ned Wynert had been so casual that he wondered if this game had even been as necessary to Ned as Jacob had made it out to be in his head. Ned had called Jacob by his name, and despite everything he didn’t seem worse than annoyed. Jacob didn’t think he’d ever been this happy and this afraid at once. Suddenly, this was real.

“You’re clever, you’ll charm your way out of this in no time. But I do hope we’ll talk about this again.”

He pointedly looked Ned up and down. Ned just groaned.

“Get out of here, you master criminal,” he told him, as he reached for the window and tore it open, nothing worse than exasperation in his voice, “before they catch you with your breeches around your knees.”

“Good night, king of the elves.”

When Jacob reached out to squeeze Ned’s shoulder before he vaulted over the window sill, Ned did not shake him off.


End file.
